


Mars

by mewtwo



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Caesar's Legion, F/M, Guilt, Survivor Guilt, Unhealthy Relationships, legion courier looking back after hoover dam and realising she's fucked up the mojave basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 11:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13007016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mewtwo/pseuds/mewtwo
Summary: The Courier looked at the Mojave, ablaze with the chaos caused after Hoover Dam with the Legion taking control by her hand, and prays for it all to end.The anniversary of the marriage to a fox rings out how her debts of sin are still waiting to be paid.





	Mars

The day marked a year since their wedding.

Women, even those of higher ranking such as herself, were only allowed so many freedoms under Legion regime but even with so little, Aloisia had made an extra effort that day to stay away from her husband’s gaze. She knew that it was futile to avoid him the entire day, but if she could have prolonged their distance for even a second longer she would have considered if a gift from God himself.

Thankfully, as if fate had shone down unto her like the blistering Mojave sunlight, Vulpes had been called away by Caesar for the better part of the day and, at her pressing request, Cato had agreed to accompany her on a walk around the dusty outlining tracks of the Strip. Vulpes was nowhere to be found as the two exited the Strip, the city once rebuilt under sin and sanctuary torn into Caesar’s new base of operations – _and rightly so_ , the former courier thought, or she believed she once did.

They had spent a long time walking through the desert of the Mojave, the Frumentarii and her, without so much as a word. She truly had no aim in her strides, and was not quite sure of where she was going, no destination in mind but far – as far as she could get for one moment in her mind – the straying of her mind felt freeing. It was the closest she’d felt to it since Hoover Dam, she missed being ‘ _the courier_ ’ more than she would say, needlessly knowing many would have like to have her tongue for her words.

She had never thought too much of marriage when she was a child though those days were not too far behind her – being only verging on her mid-twenties, it amused her if not saddened her when people thought of the courier as some well-travelled gun-slinging cowgirl, nor had she ever seen the appeal. The wasteland offered too much to waste time on such ceremonies and vows like she’d heard they did before the war and it was much too grandiose in the eyes of a girl that had only been raised in a town of jet-slinging powder gangers, people died too often to be died to another, at least in her mind. Given the regime of the Legion, it had surprised her that they wasted their time with the act, though how else would they be marked with value.

It was her own karma for supporting the Legion takeover of the Mojave, Aloisia sitting through the nights thinking about how it could have been different and should have been with her actions too late to change. She had been _so_ sure of her choice, wore her tattered Legion duster with pride, and _then_? Reality hit when she was signed off to the fox himself, the courier – _a Mojave horror story_ – just thrown to be another high-ranking Legion wife. Another pretty girl could have beaten her out, beauty was the only currency that women seemed to have left in the Legion and it had been wearing thin.

A woman had mocked her once upon seeing Aloisia cursed out by a recruit legionary. She’d pressed so hard onto the ex-courier about how she deserved every word, unlike the slaves with breaking backs and dusted heels. Another barked up about how she had been so willing to throw away the Mojave for the Legion and turn it into hell’s playground, sacrificing the lives of every man and woman out there, but when she had bore a frown the Legion suddenly didn’t seem too right in Aloisia’s round, green eyes.

And they had been right.

And she had them executed for speaking to her in such a way, it had pleased her husband immensely. When she’d seen that smirk matching that of their second encounter on the former strip of New Vegas when they’d returned to their new home – where the Tops had been, presidential suite none the less – she knew that she’d committed an unforgivable sin.

Between comings and goings, her mother had told her to find a man to provide for her. She wouldn’t have to think about that anymore – _look at me, momma, I’m the cause of this hell and I pay for it with every graze of his skin_.

She didn’t have to think of anyone, truly, anyone she had known was far from her in one way or another. She shed a tear for them sometimes, she’d never admit it. The lonely legionary struck with Old World Blues – if she could even call herself that, even recruits would resent the ranking crossing her mind.

And with a bump into the arm that Cato had put out to halt her, her mind sprung back from its drift, eyes as dark as Mojave dusk meeting the agent’s cold ones.

It was time to face fate, and her heart sank like a broken record.

* * *

She still waited an hour until her husband returned from his duties, and with each minute she waited on him her stomach filled with dread and uncertainty. Perhaps she was wrong in thinking he even remembered the day, she hoped.

Vulpes had never been a particularly bad husband to her regardless of the person that he was, she got off easy compared to any other woman under Caesar’s rule – she’d never seen one of the officer’s wives smile.

“I trust you enjoyed your walk today,” was all the fox said to her after the five minutes of silence.

“It was fine,” her voice was curt, sharp – nothing like the soft voice that people used to say she had. Of course he knew where she went, he could have probably retracked her steps if he wanted to – it didn’t surprise her, she just wished he didn’t ask about her.

It was another fifteen minutes of silence as he pondered over a pre-war book. It made her chuckle thinking they were even still there, it seemed like something Caesar would want to rid of.

Hell, did she even know what Caesar wanted? She thought she did when she preached his words and did his favours.

She didn’t know anymore.

It didn’t matter, she cared nothing for the respect Legionnaires once had for her – they’d pass as she would, and people would forget her. She hoped that people would forget her.

“I have something for you,” his voice was as cold as ever, even if he sounded anything different even he’d broken into a laugh, Aloisia didn’t think she’d ever hear anything but that monotonous, nightmarish voice.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“It’s what we’re meant to do, it’s been a year since our binding to one another. I doubt any other woman in the Legion has this privilege, profligates would be grateful.”

“Without this _profligate_ ,” the word stuck venomously on her tongue, she never took kindly to being roped into ties with other lesser members of Legion society, “The Legion would have lost Hoover Dam.”

Aloisia was worse, she believed she’d never be punished accordingly – any fire she had inside of her faded to ash, but the Legion burned on.

Vulpes only hummed in acknowledgement of her words, they both knew she was right but neither were happy.

“You did not forget the date, did you?” Vulpes asked, and Aloisia felt as if it almost sounded genuine. She wished she could have forgotten.

Aloisia did not respond, her plump, chapped pink lips opened and fell back together.

She really could have used some air.

The fox turned around and grabbed something in hand, it nailed into her how much she hated surprises – she would not have been half surprised if he had turned with Veronica’s severed head. She’d gone far after she’d destroyed the Brotherhood bunker, Aloisia was glad even if Veronica would have been happy to see her blood fall on the dust.

“For you.”

In his pale, scabbing hands, Vulpes held a rose, and it had to have been the first that the girl had ever seen outside of books – even in Vault 22, there had been nothing quite as beautiful, she wasn’t interested in how he acquired it, the less words, the better. Nothing quite as beautiful as that flower deserved to waste away in the Mojave. It softened her for a moment, a split second where her hand touched his and she felt as if she had made the right choice – her smile was made of nothing but a manic daydream.

They'd called her Rose,  _stupid_ nickname. Pretty, but'll cut you if you get too close.

And then, the girl recoiled her fragile hands, meeting the gaze of her husband’s cold eyes. She remembered the corpses slung up in Nipton, the way that he’d tortured countless whilst she watched from afar without so much as a word – they belonged together, in some respect, he was her punishment. She hoped to be his demise – war made a mess of all souls, but they’d suffer for it, she promised herself that night they had won Hoover Dam.

Everything before that was gone, set ablaze and rebuilt in the name of the bull.

The corpses of the NCR had been slung up on crosses like decoration, everything a monument to Caesar and his bloodshed.

And it had been all her doing.

She felt emptier than the corpses.

“It’s pretty,” her voice was flat, somewhat like Vulpes and when it hit her ears it made her want to laugh.

The silence after her words filled the air thick, and neither wanted to utter a word.

“It does not compare to the gift I gave you a year ago, truly,” Vulpes placed it down into a vase, surely the last either would want to look at the beauty.

Now _that_ made her chuckle.

Her namesake.

Aloisia, her stupid, Legion name.

From Aloisia, to Six, to Courier, to Rose and everything else that had been preached to her, she wondered what she had been before that.

Truly, she didn’t remember.

But she knew that she had disappointed whoever that girl had been.

“Thank you,” it didn’t sound genuine, flat even.

“You’re welcome,” his tone matched.

“Happy anniversary, dear,” it was the first thing bordering on nice she had said to him all of that year, and the day began anew as she climbed into the rigid former hotel bed, “It’s time for bed.”

Vulpes didn’t complain, rather complied without a word as he began undressing before her – the real gift he had given to her was silence, but it was not something she would ever get used to.

Aloisia closed her eyes, pressing them tightly hoping that she would wake up one day and her mistakes would be a dream – that she’d step out of that grave in Goodsprings and do it right if she could do it all again.

_If she was given the chance to go back when she became that dead girl walking, she’d do it all right_ , she told herself _, she’d stop the Hell that she’d caused and take the Mojave for herself, and for the Nation_ in her own idealistic image.

_But would she?_

 

**Author's Note:**

> i initially planned to have more vulpes in this but who knows i might expand on it someday
> 
> this really isn't much and it's awful but enjoy y'all 
> 
> happy holidays!


End file.
